


A Study in Patience

by AWildLobster



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWildLobster/pseuds/AWildLobster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan has to find him and convince him to change his mind. Set Post-Trespasser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Garish Dreams

It was one of those nights, where he only appeared half-way into a nightmare. Fire all around her, more real than it should be possible, she felt the sweat run down her face and her muscles shake in fatigue as she followed a vague endless road forward. It was a study in colour and its absence; deep red, yellow and specks of brown all around her but a complete darkness above, flecks of white appearing in her vision when she tried to look up. This is what the anchor felt like, for the last few hours she still had the use of her arm. In dreams, of course, it was still there, habit and memory stronger than her better knowledge. 

For a moment, she wondered how it would be like if the veil was gone, if this world of intense sensation and memory was always at hand, but then the thought got lost in her meaningless struggle to continue down the fiery dream path. It seemed impossible to sustain such intensity. She trudged along for an indeterminable amount of time, before she sensed him and it took a little longer for her to be able to form a clear thought again. He was helping her, of course. 

One cannot turn a nightmare off in an instant, it requires a struggle and focus, which she did not always have when she found herself in the Fade. By the time she was able to look around and catch her breath, he had slowly replaced her surroundings with something more solid. There was still a red glow, but it came from a row of fireplaces, and the darkness above had turned into a shadowy ceiling. The air cooled off and she was alone at a wooden table. Skyhold’s kitchen, she noted, too tired to be upset at his patronising interference. Soothing a nightmare does not make up for planning to destroy the world.

She frowned, looking at her long, thin fingers on the table. She had not reacted to his presence in many, many nights, after an initial struggle to reach out to him that immediately made him pull away. He is afraid of me, she thought, exasperated. 

“You would think I would have learned from my mistakes. You would be wrong.” She remembered him say. 

Indeed. There was no reason or rhyme to his need to repeat these mistakes, to be incapable of the moderation he praised in others. It had to lie in a distant past she could not hope to understand. But she had a feeling that she understood him now – not enough to put into words, just enough to wait and see if that understanding would grow into something more tangible, a last bid to save them all, including himself. He was afraid, too. So she did not voice her sadness and frustration, but just sat, looking at her hands, until she felt him slip out of the fade.


	2. Old Friends

Lavellan leant on a shovel, lips pursed and her mind far from her task. The ground was hard and partly frozen and digging had proven harder than expected. The air around her, equally chilly, had the neural smell of winter upon it. Beside her lay a large lamp-post, which presumably was to be erected at the side of the road.

She stood to the side of the gravelly little road, in the middle of a field which gently sloped upwards, transitioning into the rocky paths of a large mountain. The area looked reassuringly familiar, despite her absence for the last few years she still thought of the mountains and forests of the free marches as home. The little hut she that had become her residence for the last few weeks, stood some distance away, the gentle glow of the fire giving the deceptive impression of company. She would not normally have wasted the firewood, but she expected visitors tonight whose comfort had to be considered.

She shrugged her lethargy off and made another attempt at deepening the shallow hole she had carved out of the frozen ground. Grabbing the top of the shovel with her one arm, she swung her whole weight up and then downwards, her empty left sleeve slapping wistfully in the slight breeze. 

For a few weeks, flocks of people that wanted to help had offered contraptions that might allow her to wield both her spirit blade and her staff, but she had firmly sent them away. “If qunari mages can do without staves, then so will I.” she said. She got a lot of pitying looks from friends and strangers alike, but losing an arm seemed like a small price to pay as a result of the events of the last years. There were other things to be sad about. What she did miss, although she had kept this to herself, was the soft glow of the mark, the potent magic inside had become so familiar to her as her own, less elemental, powers.

After another twenty minutes of laborious digging she flung the shovel to the side, and looked about furtively. Once assured that nothing in the deepening shadows of the evening seemed to be watching her, she produced a small box out of her trouser pocket and dropped it in the hole. Then, puffing out a cloud of breath into the cold air, she part dragged part lifted the lamp-post into the hole. With one arm thus engaged, it was impossible to retrieve the shovel to fill the hole, so, placing the weight of the wood onto her shoulder she send a burst of mana through the tip of her fingers to secure the post by magic. The rest of the work went relatively swiftly, and she did not waste any time in contemplation, as it was rapidly getting dark.

The post standing, slightly out of place, behind her, she turned back towards the house. One arm on the small of her back, undeterred by the absence of a second hand to clutch she walked back. The hardest thing, she thought, was to keep a straight face. 

No lamppost was needed here in the middle of nowhere and any observer that had missed the little box, filled with meaningless notes and scribbles, would immediately become suspicious even so. A useless task, a little performance put on for Fen’Harel’s agents. Still, she was unsure if she should laugh at them or at herself. Solas knew Leliana’s methods, but he didn’t know hers, as she had left any administration fully in the hands of her spymaster. This alone, she hoped, would serve to keep his agents confused for a little longer. Let them think this was how she exchanged messages, let them think what they want.

In reality, no messages were exchanged, except in codes arranged in person, with any of her friends that had joined her in this new task. Leliana had to content with riding up to meet her here in the Vimmarck mountains regularly, grumbling about the inefficiency of using ravens only in case of emergency. The proximity to Varric and Kirkwall was convenient, and she was closer to the Tevinter Imperium than she had ever been in her time in the Inquisition. Thus, she waited for the inevitable culmination of events, biding her time at the very centre of Thedas.

Reaching the hut, she barred the door against the night, shrugging off the heavy coat she had worn to reveal simple brown leather clothes. She had never owned many personal items, so it had been no problem to accommodate all of them in the small room. For the people that were her closest neighbours, farmers further down the valley and rangers working in the nearby forest it would have likely appeared the oddest thing. Her bed was of Chasind origin, preferred still over any Orlesian finery; little Dalish carvings aligned the shelves, a memory of the home she had still not visited again and likely would not in this life. Her desk was covered in writings and little artefacts, none too revealing of what it is she was studying, and some placed for the sole benefit of anyone that searched this space. Above the desk, dried herbs hung tied to the ceiling, distributing the smell of Elfroot throughout the hut. A large tile of Serault glass stood before an oil lamp, she lit it now to cover the room in specks of colour, intermixing with the soft glow coming from the open fireplace. She drew a chair and sat down, enjoying the solitude and quiet.

An hour or two passed thus, marked by no clock. After a while, hooves could be heard on the road – at least a dozen horses, judging from the sound. It took her a moment to stir, but once the sounds grew louder and she could her a hound barking she got up and started putting a kettle on the fire. Soon after, the horses had come to a halt outside her door and she could hear orders to set up camp. The door flew open to reveal a party of four, their attendants busy securing the horses and lighting a fire in the open fire pit outside.

“Inquisitor” said the smallest visitor, good naturedly but unceremoniously slapping Lavellan on her good arm.

“Viscount” she said evenly but. “Come in, close the door my friends! You are lucky that the weather has been keeping.”

Varric sat down by the fire, while her three former advisors took of their coats and heavy boots.

“Do you never lock your door? Or check who is coming?” Cullen complained, immediately checking the windows of the hut. “We could have been anyone!”

“Well, I did expect you” Lavellan replied, apologetically. “Besides, if I have one thing I do not fear from Solas’ operation, it is an attack on my life.”

Stern looks told her exactly how much stock her friends put into her assessment of the situation.

“You cannot be certain what his agents might do, with or without his approval.” Said her former spymaster. 

The four visitors looked singularly out of place in the little hut, not least of all since the five of them took up pretty much all the space there was. Lavellan busied herself with the kettle, offering no response to the remark. 

They spoke no further while everyone found a spot to sit, and was variously provided with beverages ranging from ale to herb tea.

“You live like a village witch, Boots.” Varric was eyeing a large spider that was scuttling under the small table with comically raised brows.

Lavellan flashed a bright smile. “Well, who’s to say I am not? I have been providing salves to various neighbours. Tedious work, but if I will never be a Dalish first, this is the closest I will ever come making use of all the various plant trivia drilled into me as a child. Besides, it makes them fear me less.” 

“Or more!” interjected Josie, laughing.

“Hardly! It does help that I don’t have my markings anymore, however.”

“Have you ever informed your clan of what they mean?” asked Cullen, awkwardly. He was genuinely interested in how the Dalish live, but as ever felt keenly how far removed the experience of a chantry-raised former Templar was from the Inquisitor.

She looked vexed, but they all knew by experience that it was not directed at any of them, but an immediate reaction whenever her former life came up. “No. I know I should, but I don’t have high hopes that they would take it well if I come riding in without my vallaslin.” Despite her serious tone, she smirked a little. “I am very aware of the fact that I have been in close relations with the actual anti-Andraste of my people for a few years. Makes things a little awkward.”

“No shit, boots. I haven’t come up with a good way of mentioning that to Dalish friends of mine either.”

“It all still seems very far fetched.” Said Cullen, with a shake of his head. 

The Inquisitor sighed wistfully and placed her tea on the floor beside her chair.

“Well then, my friends – lets get to the heart it, shall we? Have you any news?”

As it turned out, they had – ranging from unsubstantiated rumours to quite specific witness statements.

“I wouldn’t trust those too much either” said Leliana, with an angry frown. “We have been thrown a lot of false leads.”

Lavellan took this news with equanimity. “As we did expect.” She said. “Are you happy with my ideas as they stand? I am not your leader anymore, you know, you do not have to take instructions from me.”

This drew some protest from her friends, but she shrugged it off. “It is true and there lies our strength, if you will believe me.” She had made this point before, but she could not shake the feeling that previous power structures would not be so easily dismantled. “We work independently, sharing our results but not our approaches. We cannot expect to find Solas through conventional means.”

“It feels like he will never be found at all.” Said Cullen honestly. “We have not had any true breakthroughs so far.”

“Can’t argue with that, Boots. The son of a bitch is harder to find than a Fereldan boot seller in Val Royeaux.”

“We have no other option, at least not at present.” Said Lavellan. “We are at a disadvantage here and we all know it. But I know you all and I know that if there is a way to find him, then we will. Have you spoken with Dorian?” The question was aimed at Josephine, who nodded and consulted her notes.

“If his confidence is anything to go by, he is not despairing yet. I can’t say I understand what he is researching very well, but he gave me some notes to pass on to you.” She handed over a stack of pages covered in Dorian’s elegant handwriting.

“The Veil.” the Inquisitor offered. “I asked him to find out all he can. I am conducting my own studies, but I’m no more than a hedge mage myself, it is good to approach it from a variety of angles. Besides, I cannot really experiment directly here, precautions need to be taken.” She rubbed her leg unconsciously, hinting at a painful memory to back up this claim.

“Truly, I don’t understand how you can do anything out here” said Josie, exasperated. “You could command any number of resources from former allies if you wished!” 

Lavellan shook her head firmly. “That is not an option. We know that we are not safe from infiltration and while I have complete faith in all of you, I can’t say the same about anyone else.” Again, a smirk appeared. “Besides, I don’t have a good track record.”

“He deceived us all” said Cullen, ever kind, but not thoroughly convinced.

Lavellan saw no reason to restate her loyalties, leaving another awkward silence that was broken by Varric.

“Come on, Boots, we got to ask. Are you ready to stop Solas if it comes to it? Can’t fault us for being a bit antsy. Not blaming you, but a world is at stake here.”

“Of course.” She said firmly, looking up to look into the round, slightly haughtily. “I will take as many steps as I possibly can to change his mind, but if I can’t I would not see a whole world burn for his pride, nor my affection.”

She was hastily reassured of her friends trust, but her expression remained clouded. “I don’t blame you for your worries, I would feel the same. But don’t you see that I am not steering this operation? You are free to take whatever measures you deem necessary, rather, I expect you to do so!” They looked slightly uncomfortable again. 

“It may seem that I am not trying perhaps” she continued with a calculating look into the round. “But my methods are my own. I am no spymaster, nor am I well connected - ” she put up a hand to stop interruptions. “when I meet people as Lavellan, not the Inquisitor. I can fight, but there is no army to meet in battle. You have to let me try my own way.”

“What is your way, if we may ask?” said Leliana after a moment of contemplation.

“It is quite personal” Lavellan said, unhappily, but with a quiet shrug of the shoulders. “More than a hunch, but nothing I would halt any other lines of inquiry for. It is possible to find a person in the Fade.” She paused to take up her mug again, sipping the now cold liquid. “It is not easy, but I have done it before. And Solas is… surprisingly easy to find, as long as I keep a certain distance.”

“If he allows you to find him, then how can you expect to learn anything useful this way?” asked Josephine. Leliana and Varric simply looked intrigued, but Cullen could still not help being uncomfortable with shows of magic, less so unorthodox magic. “Or for that matter know he is not laying a trap? Or worse, that it is him instead of a demon?” he added.

“Well, I cannot.” Lavellan said, simply. “No more than you can know if a piece of information was uncovered, or deliberately placed. But I believe he is, hum, punishing himself.” Another pause. “That is my angle, the best lead I have to offer.”

The point was discussed back and forth for some time, with Lavellan meeting all questions with a stoic practicality – whether they were overly hopeful or concerned. ”You will know what I know – as I come to know it.” She said with finality. A knock on the door interrupted the discussion, revealing a young human girl, wearing the colours of Kirkwall. “Sorry to interrupt, serrahs, but it looks like a storm is coming. Are we staying longer or will we go back to the Inn? The horses are a bit skittish.”

Lavellan looked at her friends with a sidelong glance full of a private amusement. “I suppose, my Dalish manners would offend you if I offered for you all to stay here tonight?”

“Oh come on, Boots, you are making Curly blush! You elves have no sense of privacy. I will be damned if I sleep in a pile of humans twice my size. We are riding back to the Inn, Rivers.” Varric snorted, pushing himself up from the chair. The woman nodded and went back outside to rally the rest of the group.

As they all gathered their coates, Lavellan enquired if they would return the next day. “Yes, we are not expected back for a few days” explained Josephine. “Besides, there are some other issues to discuss. I met with the Iron Bull last month, he is requesting some resources.”

“I am glad” Lavellan said warmly. “Please don’t take my sullen mood to mean that I’m not very glad to see you all.”

She followed them out into the heavy darkness, wrinkling her nose at the think clouds obscuring the moon. “You should make haste. If you have a moment tomorrow, please pick up my post from me from the village chanter.”

Leliana stoped in her tracks. “You are letting the villagers handle your mail?”

Lavellan laughed at her expression. “Don’t be silly, it is nothing private. I am writing to old Inquisition friends that have better things to do than visit a village witch in the Vimmark mountains.” She joked. “Farewell my friends. Have a good night!”

She stood outside for a moment, unable to make out the descending figures in the dark until a torch was lit a little ways away, illuminating the row of horses impatiently pushing for a faster pace. Eventually, once the sound of hooves was indistinguishable from the rising winds, she went back inside and barred the door against the night.


	3. Faded Hopes

The night her friends came to seek her out in her hut, she fell into an easy sleep. Solas was there right from the start, never seen, but felt and pictures by her as this spot in the fade that radiated sadness and guilt. It is selfish of him, she thought, without menace, as she had often done before. It would be more selfish if they did not both know she was looking for him anyway. They had found a little routine together, where still she became aware like this every other night, oddly scheduled. 

She had become increasingly better at not having to wait for his intervention nor being victim to her own imagination. Shaping the fade grew easier with every night that she had spent just sitting and contemplating. At first, like that night some weeks ago, after the nightmare of a fiery road ending in Skyhold’s kitchen, she would just sit still and feel his presence and how it related to the fade around them.

Now that she felt more secure in navigating her dreams, she liked to think that what made her patient was a deeper plan, some knowledge of what she had to learn, but a part of her knew that a feeling of futility had as much to do with it as anything else. Being so at the power of him and her subconscious, and resenting both, she resorted to just sitting still. There was no way to tell what he made of this, and yet, he returned every other night without fault.

Her feelings of powerlessness were alleviated by considering that he was afraid of her. Not able to stay away, not able to give up his path, he was trapped more than any of them. You probably don’t know yourself if you want me to reach out to you or not, she thought, morosely.

She learned to ignore his presence in the fade, busying herself by making herself more comfortable on her own. He met her wish for autonomy with a quiet acceptance, stopping his unwanted interference to just complement her own efforts. She was well aware that it was partly an illusion. He had created the Veil and had grown up a master in a world that was a perfect mixture between this world and the fade, and it would be foolish to assume she could learn to trap or outwit him here. But while the end goal was unclear, she always felt closest to her goal when studying the nature of this fade-world and in that rare moment when she forgot that he was there.

So for now, she tried to pay him no mind, revisiting her own memories and taking risks in exploring memories that would have been too emotional, too attractive to demons, if she had not known he was still there, sad and distant.  
Tonight she was shaping the fade to show a group of deeply familiar characters, reliving conversations she had with the various agents of the Inquisition, mundane things mostly. Giving advice about the best way to cure an old man’s rheumatism. Bearing attempts to make the Inquisitor join in on bawdy songs with good-natured impassivity.  
She felt clearly, as always, that he was helping her with the details of her dream, familiar faces just slightly too clear for her imagination and the sensation of a mug of ale in her hand disconcertingly real. It irked her that his power was so complete in the fade, especially now that it had increased, through still unknown means.

For a while they were both thus engaged, reliving the past. She was not subtle in guiding her memories to remind him that he chose to abandon all the people they were parading through the fade like the oddest little pantomime. They are real, they are people. “I deserve this” he did not say, but she was surprised by the ease with which her mind conjured him up, no help needed to make the age-less bald elf appear, looking sad and distracted. She sat him down in the very corner of the bar, not uncomfortable, but aloof. He had not often come to the bar with the others, but when he did he regarded them as if he was watching puppies play – not something that endears you to your companions and he was generally left alone, unless she or Blackwall tried to engage him in conversation.

She could tell he didn’t know what to make of this, seeing himself there. It was not something she had done before and she sensed that unlike with the rest of the scene, she was getting no help in creating his image. She let the ghosts of past conversations go, leaving them alone with his image, intrigued that she could sense a response in him.

“I deserve this” Fade-Solas said.

She looked at him wistfully. “Maybe. But you can’t expect me to aid in your passive self-pity, hahren. Allow me my own.” Imagining rather than feeling the real Solas’ surprise, she made it appear on Fade-Solas’ face. She gave him a sad smile. “If you will not allow me to meet you, you cannot fault me if I start talking to myself.”

“You know I cannot let you find me.” he replied. She conjured up all the mournful resolve he had shown when they last met. “It is not wise.”

She frowned at Fade-Solas. “Don’t be afraid.” she said, surprised that she meant it. “You cannot tell me anything I don’t already know. I will not find you here, you are stronger than I.”

“I’m not afraid” he said, with vehemence. It seemed to echo a bit, but it could have been her imagination.

“I suppose you are not” she said placidly. And they sat in silence, her eyes wistfully scanning his face. It was true, there was no need to speak with a shadow of a memory, but her heart still ached to see it.

“We are quite a pair” she said and looked away for a moment. “Shall I let you go?”

“Yes. Please.” he said, with suppressed emotion and before she could dismiss the image, she felt control over the dream slip from her. In an instant, his face had been replaced by another, much larger one.

The Iron Bull looked down on her with his usual boisterous good mood. “Of all people!” she said, surprised.

“He is right, boss. You shouldn’t be talking – You and I however, …” and he launched into a story of their dragon hunting exploits. 

Her eyebrow raised. “You were not even there for that.”

Despite the calm of her voice, she was surprised to feel the sting of tears in her eyes and the sudden wish to plead with him for the first time – Do not destroy my world, please stop this. In the waking world she had not cried in as long as she could remember. It was not for want to of sadness, but a sense of futility that she was curious to see gone now. She was unhappy with the way this had played out, unhappy with his constant, still distant presence.

The image of Bull was an empty shadow, prattling on unheard.

“You are right I should not be doing this. Let me compose myself.” And she shook off the Fade with some effort, a slight sense of satisfaction at being able to draw away.

She sat up in the hut, eyes dry but heart thumping, her face scrunched up in something like disgust. “Fenedhis” she cursed and jumped up, pacing the two or three steps the hut allowed her to the door and back. She glanced at the window where rain was coating the glass with urgency, but no lightning breaking the darkness of the night outside.

It felt sobering to have her sudden emotion meet with nothing but quiet and a soft glow of burning embers in the hut. The little wooden walls could not care less if she chose to slam her fist into the wall and a skinny, one-armed elf hitting invisible foes was not a heroic image. With a sigh she forced herself to sit down on the bed, head in hands. It was not in her nature to scheme like this. To create the perfect little cinematic to make her friend see that he could choose another way, when he would not see it alone. But that was it exactly. He would not see it alone and her private hope was not to be quenched - she liked to think that he wanted her to help him see. Why else would he return every other night, when it brought nothing but pain to either of them?

Who could say. An odd, vexing night, she told herself. But one can never tell. A dreamless sleep was waiting for her when she laid down a second time.


	4. Change of Heart

Her friends were surprised to meet her in town the next day, a small backback strapped and a staff ready. She burst in on their breakfast, stunning a still sleepy Josephine into silence.

“What… Boots?” Varric was lounging in an almost comically worn arm chair and upon seeing her stand undecided on the doorstep of the private dining room they had hired for the use of the small party he jumped up. “What have you done now?”

She laughed and closed the door behind her. “Nothing at all, Serah Dwarf.” She looked a little sheepish. After a moment, Cullen offered her a seat at the table, clearly self conscious about being out of armour. Lavellan gave him a distracted smile.

“Inqui- !” he frowned. “Lavellan. Old habits die hard. What brings you here? Has anything happened last night?”

She pursed her lips at the very Fereldan meal on the table. “No no, there is nothing to worry about!”

In an attempt to mask her awkwardness, as she had eaten many hours earlier, Lavellan helped herself to a serving of eggs, avoiding some of the more bloody looking dishes. 

“I have thought some more about what you said.” She said at last, nodding at Josephine. “About being limited up here. I’m still convinced that I have to follow my own way in this… but possibly, I should be travelling as I do, I want to come with you.”

“So what motivated this change of heart?” asked Leliana conversationally, clad in a velvety robe and as usual betraying no surprise.

“Nothing specific. But as you know I have been studying the Fade – it changes with one’s surroundings. I was aware of this before, but I feel my understanding goes a little deeper now and my efforts might benefit from a change of scene.”

“Does this have anything to do with that bullshit Solas gave us about ancient memories in ruins?” Varric asked, perceptively.

She gave him a smile and a nod. “That is it exactly – but before you get upset, let me explain. While his memories clearly did not stem from any forays into the fade, I don’t think he was lying about the possibility for this. Let me give you an example: A few days ago, I was further up on the mountain, helping to herd some goats, they had to get them down for the winter. I slept outside of my hut for the first time in ages -”

She stopped, because Varric was laughing at her advisors expression. “Goatherding… Alright, boots, go on, don’t let us interrupt you.”

She frowned, clearly unsure if they doubted her dedication to the cause again. “I was waiting for word from Dorian, so I had nothing better to do during the day. Regardless, that night I did notice changes in the Fade – nothing as intense as Solas described, which may be because I am not very good at reading changes in the Fade yet or because he was covering his real memories when he said this. Small things. But I want to follow up on this, see if I can get a sense of this Arlathan.”

“And how will that help us?”

“Solas is not cruel, there is something that makes him think he needs to save his people. For him, not much time has passed. People are people everywhere, I must show him the proof of this.”

She could see the lack of enthusiasm for her plan plainly written on her friends faces.

“And what if he won’t listen?” Cullen asked. “What if you spend weeks in elven ruins for nothing?”

“That would be… extremely unfortunate.” She said sadly. “If it will make you feel better, I will take a month for this, no more. If I make no progress, I will come to Kirkwall and we try it your way.”

Their faces lit up. “Do you have any instructions for us in the meantime?” inquired Leliana. Breakfast seemed mostly forgotten.

Lavellan could not stop the corners of her lips from turning downwards. “I thought you understood why I do not want to lead. We are all equals in this, I have no power over you and no advantage.” She said, unhappily.

“We are working on a million little leads, making no progress.” Josephine said. 

“While Solas has mindless focus. Our world is on the line, we need to make a concerted effort.” Leliana added.

Lavellan smiled sadly. “And you really think I should be the one to call the shots on this? To take responsibility for a million lives, with no confidence to back up my decisions?”

Even Varric didn’t meet her gaze, studying his polished leather boot intently.

“Very well” she said, harsher than intended. “Then so be it. Leliana, I know you are working with Sera to keep an eye on what the city elves say. Double your focus on this – let Sera handle the talking when getting testimonies, her way. The main information we need is a location, however rough. Are they in the Dales? The Emprise? Or somewhere unexpected? When you have a more specific region, you step in yourself – don’t send agents, do it personally.” Leliana inclined her head.

“Cullen. The last thing we need right now is to bring more supporters to him. While we have no other direction for the remaining troops, have them help elves, city or Dalish. As far as we know, the wider public knows little but there have to be rumors and it could escalate in violence against elves. Make sure that we are seen to oppose it and that we are a viable alternative.”

Cullen bowed slightly, clearly relieved to hear clearer commands than any he had received in months. “Of course. However – what are we now? We are not the Inquisition forces. And I refuse to go under the banner of the Red Jenny.”

Lavellan pursed her lips but said nothing. Help came from an unexpected corner. “Kirkwall, I will take you all on. Given that we are old friends and all.” Varric grinned. “As long as you don’t bring shame on the name of my house, of course.”

“That is an excellent idea.” Lavellan said gratefully. “I think it is best that Varric be seen as our leader. How will Orlais and Ferelden take it, Josie?”

“Well enough, I think. They don’t see Kirkwall as a serious threat, and with you stepping down willingly…” She shrugged.

“Brilliant. Then, see to it that continue to see us that way. We will fully cooperate on sharing information – pending Leliana’s clearance. If someone asks, I am coming to terms with the loss of my arm, or something equally diplomatic.”

“Any orders for me, boots?”

“Take good care of that city of yours?” she offered. “And help wherever you can. I believe you will have your hands full with refugees from the skirmishes in Tevinter.”

“You bet I will” he said uneasily, perhaps remembering the last time there was an influx of refugees in Kirkwall, combined with a threat of the Qun.

“Then that is settled.” Lavellan still seemed unhappy, but seeing her friends with renewed confidence upon receiving directions, she kept it to herself, consoling herself with the thought that she had been relatively vague in her instructions. “I should go, it is getting late and it is a long walk to the first ruins I have in mind.”

“Will we be able to contact you?”

“No, but I will send word whenever I can. Probably no more than ‘I’m alive’, nothing that can’t be done by raven.” Saying this, she had jumped up from her chair. “Your confidence honours me, friends, but I beg you, don’t abandon your own efforts. We are fighting an enemy that knows you well but knows me even better.”

She clasped their hands in sequence, but found herself closely hugged by Josephine.

“You say he knows you, but I think you will find that he underestimates you.” She said, to everyone’s surprise. “How could he not? He has lived for so long. But you are… different.”

“Andraste’s tits, Boots, Scribbles here has it right. I’d bet on you any day!”

Lavellan was vexed and touched at the same time and, not knowing how to reconcile both of these emotions she just frowned and smiled and took her leave. “Take care of yourselves!”


	5. Regular Dreams

That night, as expected, was filled with nothing more but fragments of her regular dreams. She let them go past and just sat there, judging the changes in the Fade whenever the dreamscape began to transform. She had not made it far at all, physically, the day already advanced when she set out after procuring rations and a heavy walking stick. She had recreated it in the Fade, holding it like she would her staff, annoying her when it slipped away as soon as she stopped paying attention to it.

The veil was slightly stronger here than in her hut and no spirits or demons drew near as she probed the Fade. Dreams felt at once lighter and lonelier when he was not around. She made no effort to draw any spirits as she still felt quite upset by… everything. Last night’s dream and her friends’ misguided confidence and more than just a little sadness at leaving that quiet hut at the foot of a mountain.

When Solas was not there, one of the first things she liked to do was probe how far her mind could reach. She knew it was vanishingly unlikely that she would be able to sense him, but it left like a step towards understanding what distance really meant in the Fade. It had to translate at least partly into physical space as she could feel herself bound to her physical body even here. On a good day, whith some transparency in the Veil, she could sense her body out there. She could see it too, but it might well just be a projection her mind conjured to go with that more definite sense of her body.

Perhaps this is how demons and spirits saw the real world. But she guessed that they must see a lot more potential, a spark where none was there before, that draws spirits to beings in her world.

What she wouldn’t give for Cole to be here. She should have let all of them teach her more – Solas, Cole and Dorian. She should have become a rift mage. Instead, she had to hope that her perspective was fresh and that this might add some value to her observations. For Solas, the Fade must feel quite different, with added layers of memory and knowledge. To her, everything seemed like a hunch. She was operating on instinct only, but trying steadfastly to extract some hard facts.

She had never been good at trusting her feelings. Before she knew she was a mage, she knew that feelings led people to do wrong; After, she could see the greed with which spirits surrounded someone with strong emotions. Even if hunches were all she could go on now, she was not revising her opinion on strong feelings and she would not allow herself to get too carried away with her ideas or feelings, inside the Fade or out.

She had thought that Solas felt the same. They had connected over their commitment to complexity and moderation when they both hunted Corypheus, now that she was hunting him she could see that at heart, he felt much more intensely then she did. No doubt he was a great scholar and millennia had taught him much, but his emotion at the loss of Arlathan and the drive to help, to free, the elvhen – she had been shocked by the intensity, however calm he still appeared in person.

She admired it, in part. The willingness and ability to act, driven by genuine emotion and stemming from noble goals. Without it, nothing would ever change. It would be like the raw fade, without any creature’s hopes and fears to enliven it. And at the same time, she despised it for what it caused and how it made him a puppet to the same emotions.

Ironically, thinking about it made her furious. So she made an effort to calm herself, before contemplating the point some more. Her imagined staff had vanished while she was musing and she recreated it in fine detail.

If he had one weakness that she knew of, it was this. Despite all his general calm, the emotions he did have were turbulent and ruled him completely, seemingly cutting off all access to reason. Her uncharacteristic outburst the other night, frightening as it had been, perhaps showed that this kind of control was harder in the presence of the Fade. It would be in line with most things they knew about it.

What were his emotions focussed on then? Justice, but for a specific cause he felt strongly about. Guilt, sadness. But these were more passive emotions. She had seen him undone by only two – anger and passion. Anger drove him towards this desperate path. But perhaps the passive emotions had a hand in it too – the anger had to be fuelled, by… guilt and pride. That felt right, all things considered. An appreciation for the way of life that was lost, a million friends lost. She could imagine it well, the trust and hope placed into a single person, just like what she witnessed in her friends. But people don’t deserve trust like that, not because they are not kind or willing, but because they were all fallible and often quite predictable.

His love for her had been no more controlled. He knew he should not have approached her, and he had even told her this, many times. Her own fault had been to take his words more serious, but in her defence, she didn’t have all the facts then. In his defence, he had been very lonely and very self-reliant for a long time. Perhaps she had to take this into account, not to be unfair – he was not merely a slave to his emotions, he did not get much time to allow reason to temper them after awaking from a very long sleep. Too much was unclear, and too much the pressure to act.

“I truly think you know better.” She said sadly, to a friend that was nowhere near. “If you would just stop to think.”


	6. Reactions

It could not be said that she did not follow her own advice. The last few weeks at the hut and on this lonely walk, she did little aside from deep contemplation. Compared to him, the time frame she needed to contemplate was woefully short. As she walked steadily, headed for the wide plains of the Dales, it occurred to her that it was her 30th birthday today. Despite no one to share this fact with, she felt grateful. Whatever the outcome of this new adventure, she had lived through dangerous years and she had learned a lot and known people worth knowing.

If the experience had taught her one thing, it was that she hated organised authority of all kinds. The good she had seen done did not outweigh the harm. The Chantry, Corypheus, the Inquisition (her!)… While her friends were still upset at seeing the Inquisition dissolved, it filled her with pride. Of course, initially, she also rebelled against the injustice of the treatment received from Ferelden and Orlais and she had dreamed of the differences they could make in Thedas, the opportunity to help the elves, dwarves and the poor. But now she felt keenly that it was a trap. They had been held together by a single, good purpose – that resolved, the power had already begun to corrupt them. The good and honourable thing to do was to back away from power, even if it was hard, and to acknowledge that they

Varric had some good insight into this, she remembered. She had told him about her views on this and he had just nodded. “Like a book with too many sequels. The authors can’t keep up with the narrative.”

“And now I need to make sure to stick to the narrative with my new purpose.” She informed a bird that had come to watch her chew on her lunch. Not having heard her inner monologue, the bird cocked it’s head and flew off, unimpressed with her insight.

She made good progress that day and as an added bonus, she was able to set up camp under one of the elvhen drawings she had come to know well. Still far from the Dales, it served the purpose as well as any other. Perhaps better, as it was the graffiti speaking of the plight of the elvhen Solas was so desperate to revive. She studied the rock sadly, first in the twilight sun, then in the glow of a small fire. It told her nothing and added nothing to her reflections that wasn’t there before, except the memory of that painted round room in Skyhold, where she had visited him so often.

It still came as a bit of a surprise to her when she found herself in that same room when in the Fade. So far, the travels had changed the quality of the fade somewhat, but apparently not that of her dreams themselves. If any ancient memories intruded, she was not skilled enough to sense them. As it was, she just saw the familiar cold room. It was night in Skyhold and the flickering firelight on the bare rock in the physical world was replaced by soft candlelight on the walls of the rotunda. Upstairs all was quiet, except for small hoarse noises from Leliana’s birds. This scene was all hers, she proudly noted, as Solas was not here yet. Her memories were easier to access with all the practice she had been getting.

She took her time remembering the details of the mural on the wall. When a memory tried to slip in, she let it. She knew that Solas would appear in it, but if she was going to react emotionally again, perhaps it was better if it happened before the real Solas arrived. A little elven girl sat on the couch, looking very small and out of place in the rotunda. She and her mother had fled their home after Haven and sought refuge with the Inquisition.

“You used to be Dalish?” she said, looking wonderingly up to the Inquisitor, who was checking some paperwork to see if the pair could find work and safety closer to their original home.

“Yes” she said, smiling absentmindedly. “That’s why I’ve got the big tattoos.”

“My friend said that the Dalish are evil and everyone who joins them ends up dead. They don’t want anyone new coming in.” She didn’t say it angrily, it was more of an observation.

“Your friend is not wrong, but also not right.” She said, putting down the paper to look at her fully. “They are very afraid of people outside of their own clans, so for some of them than fear turns into cruelty. Other clans are more open.”

“How about your clan?”

“Clan Lavellan was… a curious mixture. My Keeper – that is the leader of the clan – was very open minded, but she often gave in to very conservative voices.”

“Did you like it?” At that point she had felt Solas’ eyes on her, heard him step in from the balustrades. She blushed a little the as she had trouble reconciling the hahren’s dislike for her people with her own and a little defiant voice that felt she had more right to judge them than him.

“No, I didn’t. At all.” The child giggled and she smiled back. “It was nice living under the stars. There were hallas, which are the most amazing animals you can think of, very smart and gentle. But many of my people were very rigid in their thinking and I found it unbearable. I think I would have felt similarly in an alienage or a noble’s house or the chantry, though. Wherever people set rules based purely on strong emotions and where you end up thinking it’s them against you.”

She had lost the kid’s attention at the mention of hallas and she had to describe the animals in detail, as well as the aravels and Dalish rites surrounding both. When she felt herself starting to embellish the stories with more flair than truthfulness she decided that enough was said and sent the girl back to her mother with a little note.

When she finally turned to face Solas, he was regarding her with approval. “Wouldn’t you agree though, that sometimes it is just that? Them against you?” he said, quietly, from his enormous armchair, behind the desk that was beginning to accumulate artefacts and scrolls. She did not know him well enough then to see the vehemence behind the question, but she was able to see it now.

“Certainly. That doesn’t mean I don’t hate it.” She said, lightly. He still made her very nervous then, with his mixed signals and – to her – strong physical presence. Her past self had turned away and left the rotunda, flustered, but Lavellan stayed now, moving from memory into dream.

She regarded him silently and imagined how he must have continued his day after this. Looking after her with a slight smile and a quirked eyebrow. How strange that he gave her this castle, that must have had a million other memories for him. Like he said, it was practical, but it could not have been easy. She walked closer and just looked at his face. She was still standing thus - hands on the desk, staring intently at his bowed head, as he read a book – when she felt the real Solas’ presence. It was so faint that she was surprised to stumble unto it and she could not have said if it had been there much longer.

It was as if he was watching her through think layers of ice, as always, infinitely far and sad. But today, he seemed even further distant, if that was at all possible. For the first time, she wondered if this was not because of physical distance but a need to stay distant emotionally. Just a hunch for now, but interesting to keep in mind.

“I always thought you were very distant in person also, although you never seemed uncaring.” She addressed the presence. As she said it, she gave up the scrutiny of his memory and went back to pacing the rotunda. “It makes a lot of sense now of course. You didn’t really want to engage with this world more than was necessary.”

She did not expect a response and she would have been disappointed if she had.

“I think I would have been more perceptive under any other circumstance, but life was strange for me then, also. I had never seen that many people in one place, and they all wanted me to tell them what to do.” She did not know why she was talking about herself. She could feel the emotional impact of directly addressing him while this helpless and dependent on him relenting. “They should really have asked you. You did not feel guilt because of them, not at that point.”

The last thought was unrelated but she felt it was true and spun around to fixate dream Solas again, resolutely pushing down the emotions that threatened her composure.

“I don’t want to talk about this with you, because it feels like begging – I will do it anyway, because it is silly to think of it in these terms. You think you owe it to the past and all the links you have there to try and recreate what was. It will not work.” She was able to say this steadily and with conviction.

To her shock, there was a response. Dream Solas, with more animation than she felt she could have given the image, put down the book he was holding and frowned sadly. “I think I can judge that better than you, vhenan.”

Not allowing herself time to overthink the first response she had ever gotten from him, she pressed her advantage, although her heart had skipped a beat.

“I don’t doubt that you can tear down the Veil.” She said, taking a step towards him, which made him lean back in the armchair a little, as if he was afraid she would grab him. “It will never be the same again. You know that. You can’t turn the clock back…”

And as she said it, his eyes met hers with slight alarm and she did not finish her sentence. “Oh my god, you can!” Her mind was stumbling over itself, remembering Redcliffe and a mad magister.

He didn’t respond just looked at her, as if he was deciding upon his next move. Hers was to sit down on the red couch, mind scrambling to keep up with implications.

“If you were strong enough to do it you would have already.” She spoke aloud, voice slightly uneven. “Does… does that mean…” Her thoughts jumped to the stories of magisters using blood magic to boost their powers. Alexius magic had been dangerous unstable – an attempt to unravel thousands of years would truly plunge the world into chaos. The elven followers he was assembling…

The feeling at the forefront was disappointment. She looked up at him, struck to the core. “Solas-”

Before she could finish he was at her side, fear of her reaching out to him seemingly forgotten as he grabbed her arms almost painfully. “No.” he said. “Not that. I never - …I told you I am not a monster, who follows me does so willingly and with open eyes.” 

Her look must have been one of abject horror and she could tell it was infuriating him.

“Even if it wasn’t for that, there would be too little control over the outcome. There is another way…” He stopped himself and let her go as if she burned him. A little shaky, she clasped her hands behind her back to steady herself.

“Why would I believe that?” she said. A part of her readily did, but this was no time to be careless and his mounting frustration was… an opportunity, perhaps.

“I cannot and will not prove myself.” He spat. This was quite different from how he met her last, all calm sadness. It was much, much better than acting as if all their friends and all the innocent lives in this world had already been mourned.

“Let us say that it is so, that there is another way” she said, taking a few steps away from him for her own composure. “You are still erasing a million lives.”

She did not say “without a second thought”, but she could see that he felt it.

“Because it is the only way.” He spoke only with some effort.

“Because this world is an abomination? It should never have existed?” she quoted back at him. This imaginary Solas had become the real thing, somehow. She didn’t know how it was possible, but he was no longer behind that block of ice, nor was he just a vague presence. She could tell that this was him. How he could so detach from his body she could not say, but it made sense that this was possible for uthenera.

She could still feel her body in the physical world, thrashing around in her sleep, although she felt she could maintain her calm quite well for now. He seemed to struggle, perhaps he had not expected that she would continue to address him, after so many weeks of ignoring him completely. It seemed an odd mistake to make for someone with his experience.

“No, that’s not what I meant” he said sadly.

“It is the only reasonable conclusion, though.” She said, with emphasis. “I fail to see the difference between you and Alexius in this.”

“The future I want to create is nothing like Alexius’.” He said, proudly. “If I could show you…” It seemed to occur to him that he could show her, but he looked undecided.

“I don’t think Alexius pictured his perfect future like the abomination we saw.” She prompted. There was no time to view ancient Arlathan, however beautiful it was, it could not change what had to be done. “His time magic was localised in time and space – and yet look what it did. You would taint that world you want to restore even as you did it.”

“You are very young – you haven’t seen the magic that is possible” He began, pain in his voice, but she interrupted him immediately.

“And you are too old to repeat the same mistake again and again.”

They looked at each other in silence. This time it was her turn to be determined and sad, and his to teeter on the brink of anger. But after a moment he passed a hand over his eyes, as if to block her out.

“I should not have come, vhenan. Forgive me, again.” And with that he was gone.

“No, I am sorry.” She said to the empty rotunda after a few minutes of silence.


	7. Ravens

She woke up, pleased and upset at the same time. She had to let her friends know about this revelation, but she also did not want to turn around. Reason and feeling both told her she needed to continue on this path, this new information only made that clearer to her.

After a silent breakfast on an overturned tree stump, she had to make a decision. She decided to head for the nearest village, she would send letters to all of them. Solas knew that she knew, so it was not as if there was much to give away. The village was on her way, but still a good few hours through relatively difficult terrain. She half-knew her way, as her clan had travelled this forest before, but made sure to check the position of the sun and mountains regularly. It was surprisingly hard to get lost in the Free Marches when you had seen the whole extend of the Vimmarck mountain range.

As she walked, she let herself mull over last night’s experience. They were beginning to meet on more even ground – if he was ever going to return, that is. She did pass up an opportunity to make him show her what it was that he wanted, a vision of this world without a Veil. She wanted to see it, yet she also didn’t – in the same way as she was sure that he did not really want to see her world.

She resolved that, if he returned and if he spoke to her again, she would make him show her. She was asking him to mourn his world instead of hers, so the least she could do was understand why he was so reluctant to give up, even if all reason had to urge him to do so.

She made slow progress, despite the clear directions. Her body had not found good rest that night and her feet seemed to find every awkwardly placed tree branch without fault, setting her stumbling over and over again. By the time she reached the sleepy village, the sun was beginning to incline towards the treetops again.

The people, mostly women and children, as the farmers were still out in the fields, took her arrival with odd equanimity and even took little offence to her being an elf. When she took down the cowl that was protecting her from the cold wind, the worst she got was a long sideways look from some of the inhabitants. She quickly found the mayor’s wife, a very tall very stern looking woman of forty. While she wasn’t hostile, she wasn’t very helpful either, and only the exchange of a few coins inclined her to give more than just the vaguest of information.

“You’re lucky” she said, eyeing the coins suspiciously and testing her teeth on one of them. “My father in law keeps a big ol’ flock of ravens. He used to keep them at Kirkwall before the blight. If you have more of this, he will help.”

Lavellan, knowing the reactions elves often got in villages like this, took her remarks as kindness rather than offense and followed her directions towards a dilapidated tower. Drawing closer, she heard the welcome croaking of ravens.

“What can I do for you, Serah?” The greeting was no less polite than that of his daughter-in-law, a little more genuine even. “Are you with the Inquisition?”

As she wore the trademark green scarf and an old leather outfit from their former requisitions, she was not overly amazed by his astuteness and just inclined her head.

“Your daughter in law told me you might be able to allow me the use of your ravens. I can pay well – I need to contact the former Inquisition.”

The man inspected her coins, as the woman had done before and, satisfied, stored them away in his undercoat. He gestured at her to follow him up into the tower and cocked his head at her empty sleeve.

“Lost your arm in the service, did you? You folks did amazing work back then, you should be proud.”

She mumbled something in return and asked him for quill and paper, which he was happy to provide for some more money.

She kept the letters short, but made sure there was one for everyone who could conceivably make use of the information. She included no orders and could almost see Cullen’s exasperation. But for them, the information changed little except perhaps increasing their focus – Dorian, however, received a slightly longer missive. She stressed the importance of findings ways of counteracting time magic, although she suspected he would need little encouragement. It was a lucky break, that he could be considered a foremost expert on this type of magic, even now working on understanding the spells that changed Redcliffe with help from his former teacher. 

‘Don’t leave Tevinter, neither you nor Alexius. It is but a suspicion, but I think he may try to use this war for these ends. I’m sure you can imagine how - I want you on hand, my friend. Time to save your homeland once more.’ With that she put her signature under the letter and, after a moment, wrote a second letter with the same contents. He was in a warzone after all, and it would not do to rely on a single raven.

The old man had been chatting idly; clearly glad to see someone with concerns that went beyond the few miles that it took to cross the little village. She had not paid any mind to his ramblings, but nodded and smiled appropriately, as she prepared the letters. Now that she had sealed them all, he piped up again.

“You’ll find my ravens quite sharp, serah. I wanted to take them and offer to join the Inquisition, when everything happened, but my son would not let me. Said I was too old.” He made a show of puffing his chest out. “Whippersnapper!”

She oversaw his work with the ravens, efficiently throwing one after the other out into the chilly but clear sky.

“Do man people use your ravens these days?”

“Pah, hardly anyone. Shame really. But don’t you worry, they will find their way, I’ve made it a point to send them to old colleagues all over the place. They do the same to me. It’s hard to live so reclusively after working in a big city.”

As she had found it quite to her tastes, she could not agree with that, but she did not say so, instead complementing him on his vigilance.

“Say, do you need a place to stay for the night?” the old man asked, after they had made the descent to his little chamber on the ground floor. “Can’t say it will make the family happy, but they don’t know anything about the work you elves have done with the Inquisition. Won’t cost you anything and better than the woods, we’ve been sighting wolves all over recently.”

She was undecided. There was something in having a more secure place to rest, but her instincts told her to go on. However, instinct, in the form of curiosity, killed the cat and she found herself thanking the old man.

Feeling shamed by his kindness, she spend the rest of the afternoon trading stories about Kirkwall and the Marchs and regaled him with some news from Orlais, from where he seldomly received ravens. He endeared himself to her with his enthusiastic support for Varric as the new Viscount and they parted on excellent terms. She informed him that she would likely be gone before the sun was up on the morrow, and he gave her a blanket and some bread. 

His courtesy did not extend to leaving her the use of his personal room before joining his family in the main house – he locked the trap door leading to the higher parts of the little wooden tower behind her and advised her to just into the stack of hay in the morning.

Settling in a corner, to the familiar sounds of the ravens, she found it was not yet very late and her mind not willing to attempt sleep just yet. She half expected Solas to come back tonight, half expected him never to come again. As it was an off night anyway, she was unlikely to find out until tomorrow.

If she had scared him away for good, her journey would be a short one. There would be nothing left but to set out to Tevinter and join Dorian in his efforts. She did not like to think about what that would mean for Solas and their next meeting.

So far she had not given a thought to being physically followed. Her confidence in her safety from any direct attacks continued, but she wondered what kind of agents he would send to follow her. She was not a spy and her whole understanding of the profession was limited to the spies she personally knew, Leliana and the Iron Bull. It was unlikely that these two were your average agent.

She put all thoughts of Solas out of her mind and wondered what life had been like for those two.


	8. Cole

He did not come that night. Nor in any of the nights that followed. Leaving the city behind, she had entered a long stretch of wilderness. Not knowing what her nexts steps would have to be, she had abandoned her goal of reaching the Dales. It would be by far too far to travel for Tevinter should Solas not return.

A night or two were actually spent without sleep, as she was unable to secure a safe spot to camp. Ironically, it was the wolves the old man had mentioned that concerned her, howling angrily in the distance. Another night, she stumbled upon a bear and her young, and – more in consideration than out of fear for her own safety – she decided to just continue wandering that night. In honesty, his absence and her idleness scared her and every night she just spend probing the Fade felt like a failure. But in part, she thought he wanted her to call of this Fade duel they had been fighting and that suggested that it would not be wise to throw in the towel so early.

In a way, it felt as if they were pitting their ways of life against each other – Solas, always compelled to act against what he saw as wrong, urging her to move along, while she herself would prefer to wait and watch and learn. It would be a bitter lesson indeed if she wasted her friend’s hopes wandering the wilderness, hoping to change the heart of a single person through sheer power of will.

After a week, she started wandering further north, compromising with her guilty conscience. She could dream even in Tevinter, could she not? And yet she hoped that her friends were right, that he was underestimating her and that he was more likely to do so out here than surrounded by mages and war. It was the worst week she had experienced since the breach, worse than when he left her and worse than when she had to decide the fate of the Inquisition. Then, there had been no real conflict for her, she had no real choice, while here she felt keenly that she personally, rather than the Inquisition or her team of fighters, would determine the outcome.

In any case, she did not allow these fears to creep into her dreams at night, which was a feat that cost her great self control. She kept up the revision of memories, especially those that contained him. While it was never more than dream-Solas, she watched him carefully, keen to spot anything she may have missed when she first created these memories. She replayed all he ever said to her about the Fade and laughed at his prevarications about his past. And yet he still never returned.

After another few days, she decided that she had to change her approach once more. That night, precariously perched on a rocky outcropping to the side of a little waterfall, she went to sleep on a clearer mission than usual. She had to reach out to a spirit, she had to reach out to Cole.

Surprisingly, he was not as hard to find as she had thought. He appeared to her, hat and all, almost as soon as she closed her eyes. “My friend” he said, pleased.

“Cole” she said, with matching warmth. “Please don’t tell me all I had to do was be determined to find you.”

“It is not that simple” he said. “And I’m afraid that I won’t be much help.” She knew that for her friend, none of this was as linear and specific as it seemed to her, for him, everything was intertwined in a different way and it was hard for him to be direct with her.

“I know Cole, but you are a great help just being here. I thought I was going to go crazy alone out here.”

“I know. He knows. He hopes you would just stop. He wants you to forget, but he doesn’t want to ask me to make you.”

It was almost a question and he didn’t seem surprised when she put up her hands in panic. “Don’t, Cole!”

“I won’t.”

They sat down together. Her dream appeared as the raw fade tonight, but she wasn’t sure if and how that was significant.

“You know that he is wrong, Cole.” She stated, but was surprised to find Cole confused on that matter.

“He will not hurt anyone. But it is confusing what he will do, I don’t understand what it means.”

“What he wants in an ideal word is not evil… it is misguided though and it will not work and it will destroy a lot of good in one go, even if it would go well.” She was sure of it, despite Solas’ confidence. “He is good at acting, but not good at accepting the consequences.”

Cole nodded. ”He suffers very much and it is hard not to help. I can’t tell if he wants help and how to give it. You and Solas and Varric taught me that helping can be more complex than I thought. It would be very easy to do the wrong thing, so I do nothing.”

She gave him a hug then, both to soothe him and herself. “You are wiser than he is, Cole.” She said sadly, before drawing back. “I want to ask you about the Fade.”

“Of course” he said, expectantly.

“I can feel my body in the real world – close by but separate. How far can one go from the body here?”

“Most people don’t go very far at all – it’s just the Fade that changes around them in a single spot. You have some space here” he said and she again felt the edges of how far she could extend around herself.

“Can I move further?”

“Not at once, not in all directions. But a bit of you can go and wander. Look.” He stood up and walked a few steps with her. Unlike normally she felt herself walk away from her body.

“Interesting.” She said, the only word to sum up the sensation.

“It’s dangerous for you, I think” said Cole, concerned. “We should go back. You are leaving your body all by itself and if a spirit is powerful enough it can take advantage of that.”

“I thought they need my consent?” she said, following him back cautiously.

“They do – it would not be possession.” He had some trouble describing the concepts. “It would not be good. Solas prepares for this, he has a spell.”

Her eyes went wide, but it would not do to jump to conclusions. “So he watches from afar.”

“Yes.” Cole said, uncertainly.

“But to talk like you and me are now, he would have to be relatively close? Physically?”

Cole nodded. “I should not talk about this, it makes him very upset I think.”

She felt like she should pump her fist in the air or do a dance, but the victory was just small. “It is ok Cole, I am trying to help him, too.”

“I want to help” he said unhappily. “but it is too risky. I will not tell him I saw you tonight, but he might know. I will go somewhere else now, until I can help better.”

Lavellan felt that Cole would not be this passive if he knew what was at stake, but there was no point in upsetting him more by trying to explain. “That is probably for the best, my friend. Please take care. I will do my best.”


	9. Dream Walking

Knowing that Solas was likely physically close should have come as more of a surprise, but it made perfect sense in a way. He had the Eluvians and could travel faster than she could ever hope to. He did not need a base of operations to instruct his followers, and the only real threat to finding him was, at present, her. It made sense to keep close, while she alone and not surrounded by advisors and an army.

As she walked, she kept a much closer look on her surroundings. Despite the romantic appeal of the notion, she knew the wolves had nothing to do with him, having seen packs like these all over the Marches growing up. There was no sign that anyone was following her very closely, but she had made no attempt to hide her tracks. If she was the one following herself, she would have had no difficulty in following at a few hours distance. She walked slower than usual, hoping to bring him a little closer. In reality, he might have stopped following her the night they spoke, but something told her he would not be scared away like that, if just out of pride.

However, if she had hoped this victory might have sparked the end of her struggle, she was wrong. She caught no sight of him in waking world or dreams. At lunch time, she sat down and set up camp, something she had not ever done in the previous days, choosing to sit down no longer than a few minutes to eat and drink. It had become too cold to sit for long without a fire, so she dried the firewood with a small spell to keep it from emitting too much smoke. At night the fire burned openly, but she spent it restless, going between waking and sleep and unable to affect the Fade significantly.  
She considered contacting Cullen, to attempt to apprehend Solas, but she had seen his powers, and her goal to know his whereabouts had never been in the hopes of launching a direct attack. Still, it was partly guilt that affected her here, the knowledge that her friends were searching for him, while she was quite sure that he was right behind her at every turn.

The slow journey north felt like escaping the clutches of winter, evidenced by the accumulating snow on the tops of the mountains. She felt more and more grimy, having travelled for a long time with few changes to bathe or change her clothes. Thus, it was with delight that she came upon a hunting cottage by the side of a small stream. She had seen old tracks for days now, the cottage likely belonging to a noble that used it during the hunting season. Feeling a distinct lack of remorse, she picked the lock (after a few very frustrating attemps – she was no rogue) and let herself into the almost comically luxurious version of a rustic shack as her own.

Finding a tub and a bucket, she was able to warm up some water to make a warm bath and a soup at the same time, as she was not able to prioritise either her hunger or her need for feeling clean. Lying back in the hot water, a cup of simple beef broth in hand she wondered when she had become so interested in these very human comforts, but reminded herself that if hot baths were available in her clan, it would be no more than a few weeks before people would look down on quick scrubs with herbs and cold water. She did not fail to drop a few leaves of elfroot into the water though, as the smell still made her think of cleanliness and home.

It felt odd, bathing with only one arm available – she had to alternate between scrubbing her skin and taking a sip of the broth. The atmosphere was so different from any nights and evenings of the last few months that it felt quite surreal; almost like a fade dream itself. It made her mind wander. If she walked out of that door and found that the Veil had been torn open, her world and her friends dead in the chaos. What would she do to undo it? What if it was her idleness here that caused it? Much. She would give much, but not all. Not a million lives to make it better for what was a surviving minority. What if they were tranquil all?

The cooling water drove her from the bath shortly after. The furs on the – Orlesian? Seriously? – bed were inviting and she did not bother putting clothes on or drying herself off. The hut had warmed up sufficiently in the fire she had put up and the furs would keep her warm when it eventually died down.

Staring up at the ceiling, she wondered how much she should risk in searching for him at night, if it was worth leaving her body to sleep here and wander the Fade without knowing that spell.

She hardly noticed herself drifting off to sleep before noticing that the hut around her was brimming with too much oddly shifting colour to still be based in reality. Solas was nowhere near. She experimented stepping away and back to her body, noting with satisfaction that it was surprisingly easy to find her way back. She had, it seemed, become so accustomed to just observing the fade that it was easy to just let herself slip a little further every time. But she suspected that it would be more than just a few steps to find Solas in the Fade, if he was even anywhere near.

She circled her body in widening circles, never turning her attention from it. She felt spirits near, but all were very small, no more than wisps and she sometimes could feel her Fade-body brush by one, feeling a slight tinge of electricity. While she could feel the Fade change around her and had some sense of the outside world, she sensed no one, least of all Solas’ familiar presence. It was hard not to be disappointed and harder still not to risk too much. Standing apart from herself, she wondered if she should go on or return the short way back to her starting point, when she felt a sudden jolt. Something was pulling her back insistently and, not seeing a reason to resist, she gave in. 

While, it had not felt like she wondered far, with every step back, she could feel a change more profound than the corresponding step in the other direction. She had been deceived. Any step seemed to cost her enormous effort, almost as much as it cost to push down the rising panic. It felt like stepping out into the open ocean where before you could feel sand under your feet. Like falling, but not as fast. Now, she could see it. A powerful spirit had drawn near; impossible to miss, but clearly powerful enough to mask its approach. Having found her way back, she frowned and attempted to wake herself like she had done that night in her hut, but only met with painful resistance.

“It is very impolite to run, without introducing yourself.” Said a lazy voice, as if right behind her ear, although she could sense the spirit lurking a little ways off. “It’s very careless to leave your body like this, I haven’t seen anything like it in a very long time.”

“Then you must have lived long then.” She said, for lack of a different answer.

“I have indeed.” He was very pleased with himself. “And I have not spoken to anyone in an even longer time. There was not really any need to. I think that we must have a mutual acquaintance, little elf.”

“Oh?” she felt quite heavy, as if all of her limbs had weights tied to them, and clearly her mind was not catching up any quicker.

“Yes, someone else who walks far from his body, but he does it much more safely than you. Tell me is that man your friend or your enemy?”

She had no real time to think. “My friend.”

The weight increased as the spirit laughed deeply. “Is that so?”

She calmed herself and stopped trying to escape as it clearly did not benefit the situation. She could affect the scene around them, but could not tell how he was affecting her. The spirit was an indistinct dull light in the fade, while their actual surroundings had melted away to a black backdrop. It was her fear that wrought this change, she was sure. The weight on her remained constant.

“Well then, little elf, why don’t you tell me a little more about this friend of yours. Why does he walk the Fade? He is not like any of you others.”

She made sure that her mind remained blank. She could feel herself scream in her sleep in the real world, crying for help in all the languages that she knew. Her hopes for this help were non-existent. What if she died here? Could she set an ancient demon on Solas in hopes that he would stop him from his plan? If it was guaranteed success, she could, but it was not. And thus her visceral reaction, to protect him from this thing won out.

“Protect him from me, little elf? Your mind is all a jumble, why don’t you tell me more.”

She thought of the Dalish instead. Especially her Keeper and her herbs and spells. Different types of moss. Stories of the evil humans.

“How disappointing.” The spirit sighed and the pressure began to increase again.

Her body had begun to cry, but she was calm enough in the fade. Out of her control. As breathing became harder, her surroundings became more indistinct, an unsatisfying last image. To her surprise, she heard the spirit scream.


	10. Elfroot

When she woke up, she was surrounded by the smell of elfroot. It was stronger than the slight hint of it that had clung to her after the bath. Her throat was painful and sore, but it intrigued her enough to try and open her eyes. When that proved too difficult, she fell back on simple sensations instead. The smell had a burnt edge to it, as if someone had burned dried sticks of the stuff, like her Keeper did for some of the rituals. The next sensation was sound.

“Please, ma lath.” That was Solas. Her heart sped up, but she forgot less immediate concerns when the sound of language triggered her memories.

“Demon!” she croaked. “Careful!” 

Finally her eyes cooperated and she was glad to find the cottage in relative darkness, except for a soft glow of embers. Solas was kneeling beside her, clad in the clothes he wore when she knew him instead of the same odd armour he had worn at the crossroads. She struggled to raise herself on her elbow, and blinked up at his face.

“I know, lethallan. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

She had no reason to not believe this, so she allowed him to press her back on the furs. Her head felt very light.

“Wait just a moment before you speak, I will stay here.” He said and dropped the hand she did not know he had been holding. He got up and she saw him close the door with a wave of his hand.

“That was quite close” he said eventually, looking a little shaken, a little more like the friend she knew. “You almost died.”

She gave him a look that she hoped conveyed how little that would matter in the grand scheme of things, if it weren’t for her unlikely odds for preventing his plan. Her voice still felt a bit unsteady, but mostly from automatic relief. “It was a demon, he was searching you, and he wanted to know why you walk the Fade.”

“He knows well why I walk the Fade, he wanted to know if he could upset me by hurting you. He found that he could.” He said steely.

“What did you do?”

“I killed him. I had not done it before out of respect for the long life he lived.”

She nodded and finally propped herself up on a pillow again. “I shouldn’t have tried to walk away, I grew impatient because I couldn’t find you, here or there.” She said with a grimace.

“Impatient? You?” Solas said with a slight smile. He looked around and found a pitcher of water. “Here, you should drink something.” 

He spilled some of the water as he poured out a glass for her and she noticed for the first time that he looked quite tired himself. This was not something that had occurred to her - Instead of being far away or hiding in the fade, he had simply not slept.

“How did you know I needed help?”

“You were yelling for me to help. I knew the spirit was around, but I didn’t think he would be a danger to you as he was beyond the stage of bothering sleeping mortals.”

“I was not yelling for you.” she said defiantly, feeling childish even as she said it. He was kind enough to let it go and sat down by her side with a serious expression on his face.

“We cannot go on like this, vhenan. You are hurting yourself and I need to sleep.”

She drank some of the water and felt her throat much relieved. “You know” she said carefully. “You could just stop following me.”

He smiled at that. “I know.” he said sadly. “You mustn’t think I have been this close-by all along, no more than two months at most. It seemed more convenient, as it was unsure what you were doing.”

“My options are rather limited, you know.” She said drily.

“You have an organisation, and army” he suggested. 

She grimaced. “And what good would that do me? You said it yourself, a big organisation comes with its own problems and you knew this organisation inside and out. I have no desire for power, I just want you to give this world a chance to live and no army will make you see that. What’s the use in an unnecessary war between your people and mine when they will likely all die regardless.”

He put his head in his hands and was silent. She was under no illusion that he was considering her request, he was just feeling guilty. After a moment she put her hand out and had it hover over his head. Eventually she touched his ear lightly and pulled her hand back.

“Did you really not sleep for more than a week?”

“You have very little regard for the extent of my abilities, considering your people think I am a god.” he said irritably, looking up, and she was happy to return the favour of ignoring that comment.

“Shall we call it a truce for tonight then?” she offered. “I’ve had quite enough sleep… I will go out, try to hunt perhaps, and you can lock the door behind me and sleep.”

“I will lock the door so you don’t murder me in my sleep” His smile was disbelieving. “And then you come knock at the door and we have dinner?”

She sat up fully, only now noticing that she was still naked. Not that it mattered now, this was not the moment. “Yes.” She said sadly. “I don’t believe I would actually succeed in killing you, it is more for my peace of mind. I don’t want to feel obliged to try.”

He watched her get dressed with a deeply pained look.

When she was all set, she gave him a smile and headed for the door. He followed her and an insistent hand on her shoulder made her turn around.

“How will you hunt?” he asked quietly, glancing at her missing arm.

“Easily done” she said with slightly forced cheerfulness. “I have a small bow - I draw with my teeth. Took some getting used to, but I’ve done it before. I’m no Sera, but I’ve not starved yet, have I?” 

She resented pity, but Solas had always been different. When he embraced her she sank into his embrace a little, aware that she too had been very lonely. “I’m sorry.”

She could and would not say that it was okay, because it was not; but she touched his ear again, as much intimacy as she could permit herself. She made as if to draw away, but his hands just tightened around her back.

“What if I wait, another hundred years.” He said darkly. “I could wait somewhere. You could live out your life without this threat, all your friends could live theirs.”

She gritted her teeth and freed herself. “And ignore that any child I meet will not have a future? That none of this will ever have existed? That there will likely not even be another world to replace this? I would prefer it over imminent death, yes, but I would still have to stop you.”

He bowed his head. “I know, vhenan. Go. I should not have said anything.”


	11. Colour is missing in the world

She felt better when she returned, two hares over the shoulder. The little hut sat quietly in the morning sun. She did not feel bad about leaving him to sleep, although she was fairly sure that she would not find him when she returned. If it had been her, she would have left immediately.

If this trip was teaching her anything, however, it was that despite the kinship she had always felt with him, they were quite different people. When she opened the door, he was sitting the table, turning her walking staff over in his hand pensively. Her eyebrows met her hairline.

“I did not expect to find you here.” She had not seriously considered what she should do or say were he still there.

“I thought we established that I like to repeat my mistakes.” he said. He looked more alert but sadder still. “I want to show you what I am hoping to regain.”

She nodded. “Yes, it is only fair. But let’s eat first.”

He stepped up to help her skin and prepare the hares. She was grateful as the process was fairly unpleasant with only one hand to work with. It did not surprise her, not much, that he knew exactly what to do. He worked with silent confidence, but a small crease between his brows. “Why do you say that it is only fair?”

“I am asking that you let it go – it’s a lot to ask when I have never even seen this world that makes us all seem like tranquil to you.” He nodded and started cutting strips of meat to put on the fire, while she prepared some herbs to season the food.

As the meat cooked, they sat in silence, each contemplating unpleasant things. Lavellan was unhappy with her body that reacted by habit to his closeness – to mask it she sat far from him, arms crossed and face equally closed. Maybe it was her reticence that made him more inclined to approach, but his demeanour was almost as open as before all this happened.

“If you want to, I have a spell…” Before flashbacks to the night he last said these words could surface, she understood that he meant her walking stick. When she gestured for him to pick it up again he started turning it in his hands again, eyes flashing with a grey mist. The wood made a creaking sound and started to bend and turn, creating intricate patterns with specks of colour. It took no more than a few minutes and when he was done he looked at it wistfully.

“Is this how it used to be done?” she said, compassionately, when he made no attempt to put the staff down.

“Yes, but I’m a poor artist. They were more beautiful than this.” He handed it to her and she traced the little bird and dragon shapes with her hand, surprised to find a spark of magic in the staff itself now.

“It is a spell in itself?” she asked, intrigued, testing the balance of the staff in her hand. 

He nodded. “It created runes within the wood. They are each unique.”

“Thank you.” He smiled absentmindedly.

She left him to muse on his memories and took the roasted hare off the fire. There was more than enough for both of them and sharing food by a fire was familiar enough to both of them to break the awkward tension somewhat, even though forgetting was impossible.

“I don’t think you failed, you know.” She said eventually. “I don’t expect you to share this view, but from what I understand, life for the average is better than it was for a slave in your time.”

“The magic is missing from the world, vhenan. It’s like there is just one colour left where there used to be many. I used to think it showed in the people as well, but you showed me that I was wrong to think so.”

“Show me Arlathan, then.” She said determinedly, finishing her food and wiping her hand on a towel.

He looked doubtful, but thought better of it. Eyes clouded by the grey mist, his voice seemed much deeper. “Come then.”


	12. Victory

“Come then.”

It was a rhetorical order, as she felt herself stand automatically as the world around them dissolved. As they were – as far as she was aware – not in the Fade, she could not tell how he achieved it, but thought the question would detract from both of their goals so schooled her features. For a moment, she could not see him anymore, as if a fog had come between them and when it cleared he looked like the Solas she met at the Crossroads, distant and stern, in much the same armour.

“I was unbearably proud of course.” He said, as if continuing a narrative. “I had not much but a natural sense for justice to moderate my actions. I learned much through the years, but I know the remnants have offended you more than once.” He held out his hand to her and she took it, if just to reassure herself that it was still him.

“I would not say offended. Confused perhaps.”

“Look” he said, eyes wandering behind her head. “Look at it.”

She turned to a scene much like the Archives she had seen, floating towers, houses, and cities. Plants and trees with familiar but foreign leaves were ranking around rocks and buildings, the architecture grander even than that of the ruins she had seen in her travels. It was beautiful, stunning even, but nothing that should have surprised her, however breath taking it was to behold in person. 

What took the scene beyond a mere beautiful feeling was the layer of sensations. She had wondered during her forays in the Fade whether the kind of intensity it lend to everything could be sustained – it appeared that it could. It was in every colour every shape, but not evenly distributed, lending the view a surreal quality. They were standing at the foot of a tower, likely itself on a floating island that gave them a clear view of a million floating rocks and trees. Elves were going about their business deliberately, taking for granted the depth and brilliance of their surroundings.

“Every sentence had the potential to be a spell, if said in the right place or with the right inflection.” Solas pointed towards a house. “Walk with me.”

And she did. He had much to show and much to tell her, growing more and more animated with every scene and story. This first scene seemed more like a fairy tale than a real world, especially paired with the surreal feeling of the fade over it all. To his credit, he did not hide behind that. She saw proud, free elves but she also saw casual cruelty to people bearing the same tattoos she did not that long ago. He showed her a summer celebration among these slaves, which reminded her eerily of the summers of her childhood with Keeper Istimaethoriel, although she did not say so. What was different was the ease with which even the lowliest elves handled magic with natural ease and… something she could not verbalize as she was not sure she had developed the sense to properly experience it. Something was very different about every little interaction they had and she could see how he likened waking up in her world to being made tranquil.

It was easy to forget that Solas was creating the views for her benefit, as he seemed just as immersed as she was, indeed, as hours passed and he seemed far from done she grew a little concerned. He was still speaking in a controlled voice, but he was not speaking to her anymore, but to himself.

“Solas, is it safe for you to maintain this for so long?”

“Safe, no.” He held out his hand to touch the walls of the building next to him, stooped to touch the ground. “But how can I accept this, Vhenan? That all of this is gone?” His voice was brimming with anger and sadness, but the anger was winning out.

She frowned. “Solas -”

“And for what? For a world in which we are slaves to humans and live no longer than them, short miserable lives.” His voice raised in pitch and volume, but not at her, at the unseeing elvhen passing them. “It was supposed to be the chance at freedom, not the end to our civilization. I thought…”

She did not ask him what he thought, or even listened, because his anger was not just making him shake with emotion, it was tearing this vision or illusion apart. She felt the earth tremble underneath her and she was unsure how to get to safety. With him paying no attention to her, it seemed prudent to at least get off this street, which seemed about to give way under her feet, but with his hand still gripping hers painfully, she was rooted in place.

“And the Dalish worshipping the worst parts of what was lost.” His eyes were now spilling the grey mist. “You world doesn’t deserve to continue, as long as there is even a chance at restoring this. You have no concept of what was lost, even seeing this. It was eternal, until I broke the fabric of what made it thus.”

He seemed truly awful in his anger, and while she felt that truly the houses and rocks must be falling out of the sky around her she thought it best to not say anything and trust that he would come back to himself in time, because there was nothing that could be said. He was yelling now, in words she could only half make out, but she took comfort in the fact that he had not let go of her hand and she was still standing on firm if wobbly ground. The yelling and the turmoil continued for a while longer, and eventually she closed her eyes to it all. 

When she felt something change and he fell silent, she dared open them again. They were sitting as before, by the fire in that little cottage. She let out a shaky breath and dropped his hand to bring hers to her mouth.

“If I was supposed to bear this knowledge as punishment, it was wasted because I cannot. I should have died with them.” Tears were on his cheeks and the grey mist had abated, but there was still anger in his voice. “I cannot stand by and not act when I know what this world could be.”

She chose to wait with speech until her heart had slowed a little.

“I know that you can’t.” she said, almost reverently. “You are a force of nature. I don’t know if all of your kind were thus. But you are wise and old also and you will not destroy my world.”

She surprised them both with her worlds.

“Is that so?” he snarled, making her grip the edge of her seat as her body betrayed her fear.

“No.” she said through gritted teeth. “You can’t, you know it is wrong, you know they are lost. Who knows what would have been if you had acted differently, but endless years have passed and it is too late.” Despite her fear she felt completely sure about the truth of her words.

He bared his teeth as if to snap at her, but his eyes were fixed on face expectantly.

“For what it is worth, I think you did the right thing and I cannot be sad that you lived, even if it endangers everything that I have held dear.”

“Kill me.” He said suddenly, as if compelled to do so. He jumped out of his chair and kneeled at her feet. “End it, before I become a monster. I have lied to you and threatened you and I have made you follow me on my bloody sad path. Kill me.”

“No!”

He laughed, sadly. “You are right, of course, I cannot do it. I cannot destroy a world, however sad and grey it seems to me. I have to die, because I cannot exit and accept that.”

She tried to get up, but he grabbed her hand and held it to his chest. “It is kindest to me and kindest to you.”

She pressed his hand and finally let herself give in to the urge to touch him. His cheeks, his nose, his lips. “Why kill what is left of your world?” she said. “Why not stay and work to bring this one closer to yours?”

“With whom? The Dalish? Shall I fight human nobles and waste the short lives our people live now in dying for a few old scrolls and paintings? That is all that is left of us now.”

“Do it with me!” she pleaded and, resenting the deference that seemed comical to her, she kneeled beside him. “Do you think I enjoy the way my people live? That half of us live in fear of superstition and the other are trodden upon and forgotten? I have plans, resources, stacked away with the help of the Inquisition. Whatever wasn’t needed to help rebuild after the breach went to that.”

Solas seemed to have trouble focussing on her words. “Plans?”

She blushed. “It doesn’t matter now, it was a contingency a long term plan. To reclaim the Dales, to build a nation. Not me personally, but all of them together. I hate to admit it but they aren’t ready to defend themselves and they know nothing but the authorities they have followed. They need a leader at the start and…”

He looked like he bit into something bitter. “And that should be me? Who would kill them all in a moment for a chance to undo the past?”

She regretted bringing it up now and pressed his hand harder. “It doesn’t matter now, I should not have suggested it. But I have enough for schools and for defences, what they need most. The future can be different. There must be a way to bring down the veil that leaves a chance to the living.”

He was in no state to be receptive to her plan and she was in none to present it, feeling like she was going to burst into tears at any point. She felt like thanking him, like slapping him. Instead she put her arm around him.

“Please, just rest, there is time for decisions!” She pleaded.

He nodded. He looked exhausted, but in the end it was him that offered her his hand to get up, as she was hardly able to keep her balance. There was not enough energy left in either of them to say even a word more and they fell on the bed in exhaustion and into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
